


A Little Christmas Cheer

by jupiter_james



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas dinner gone wrong, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides to reclaim Christmas for him and his small family, but his attempt at a fine Christmas feast goes awry. Luckily, Castiel (and Sam) are there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Christmas Cheer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mindlikecas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindlikecas/gifts).



> The timeline doesn't matter much for this fic. However, it's set in universe in some vague downtime after Castiel gets his own grace back.

"This is... so much food," Castiel said doubtfully as Dean brought in the third load of grocery bags into the bunker.

The hunter grinned, breathing slightly heavier at the exertion of hauling the frozen turkey, countless vegetable, beer, and dozen canned goods. "We haven't had a fine Christmas feast in years, man. Going all out this time."

Castiel leaned over the counter and poked into one of the bags with a curious expression. "Naturally, I am not adverse to celebrating the birth of Jesus, but I fail to see how canned cranberries have anything to do with it. And he wasn't born in the winter."

Rolling his eyes, Dean started unpacking the goods, spreading them out until they covered nearly every surface. He jammed the perishables into the fridge after some harrowing Tetris-like maneuvering and said, "yeah, yeah, the church just did it in December because of the solstice and wanted to put a Christian spin on it, blah blah blah. We all know the Christmas story, Cas. It's not about that for us, you know? Sam and I have had the shittiest Christmases ever since Mom died, so it's all about the good food and family now."

"Hmm," Cas answered distractedly. "I can understand that. Then again, it also seems strange for you to wish for a Christmas celebration seeing as how you are not very supportive of God and His will. Perhaps this 'good food and family feast' would have been more appropriate for Thanksgiving."

Dean chuckled. "Says the fallen angel who's almost human now. And, seriously? You're still on the air quotes? Whatever, man. If you keep complaining, I'm gonna put an angel up on top of that Christmas tree over there and call it Castiel. I'll get one with the frilliest dress I can fine."

The angel's lips thinned to such a displeased expression that Dean laughed again. "I would appreciate you not doing that."

"Then help me out by filling the sink with cold water to thaw this damn turkey." He hefted the heavy, plastic-wrapped bird into the deep sink and scooted it to the center while Castiel came behind him and turned on the faucet to fill the sink.

"Will it be ready in time?"

"Yeah, sure, why not," Dean said dismissively. "It'll thaw today and we'll put it in the oven overnight and it'll be ready in time for lunch tomorrow."

Castiel eyed the beast of a bird that could probably feed a small army. "I'll admit to not knowing much about human food preparation, but this whole Christmas dinner seems to be quite a large task."

"Eh, I watched a YouTube video on it," Dean said, smacking the turkey fondly before it was completely submerged. "It said to cook it for a while at five hundred degrees, then turn the oven low and let it roast overnight. Fool-proof, it said."

"That means something'll go wrong," Sam interjected from the doorway. He sidled into the kitchen and peered into all of the bags in much the same way that Castiel had.

"Do none of you have any faith in me?" Dean demanded, spreading his hands in an incredulous gesture.

"No," Sam and Castiel said in unison.

If he weren't so offended, Dean would have laughed at the pair of them; human-angel and Sasquatch-brother with twin expressions of doubt on their faces. "Hey, both of you assholes are killing my Christmas cheer. I said we're doing this right, so we're doing this right; huge, _delicious_ Christmas dinner included. Now make yourselves useful. We need to prep all this shit tonight because I don't want to wake up early tomorrow."

He slid and cutting board towards Sam along with a chef's knife to chop mushrooms and celery and onions for the stuffing, while he instructed Castiel to carefully wash the rest of the vegetables. Castiel complied and set to cleaning off everything with the same intense focus he used to research lore, absently passing the finished products over to Sam. With an amused smile, Sam took the offerings with a muttered, sarcastic, "yes, Chef," to Dean. 

The prep work took most of the afternoon, and shortly into their work, Dean had the idea to hook up his iPod to the bunker's speakers, playing classic Christmas music on shuffle from Bruce Springsteen to Frank Sinatra to Manheim Steamroller, which set Sam to snickering as Dean bobbed his head along to the beat.

Once it was all said and done, both Castiel and Sam seemed like they were much more ready to accept that Dean might actually know what he was doing outside of making burgers. They all sat at the table after storing the prepared ingredients, nursing beers.

Sam broke the companionable silence by saying, "what time's dinner tomorrow? I need to run some errands in the morning."

"Need any help?" Dean asked automatically.

"Nope," Sam smiled. "You said we're doing Christmas, so I'm gonna go pick up some gifts or whatever." 

Dean slapped his brother on the back with a pleased grin. "That's what I'm _talking_ about, man! It'll all be ready by like, four, so you're good to go in the morning. Glad you're not being a grinch this year."

Preparations set and schedules confirmed, Dean pulled the laptop across the table to double check his recipes. Sam wandered back to the library and silence fell in the bunker for several minutes. Castiel stayed across the table from Dean, flipping through one of the ancient tomes on the table, but not with his usual focus. Dean could feel the angel's gaze on him to the point that it made his face itch.

"You're staring again," Dean said without looking up from his computer screen.

"Yes," Castiel said vaguely. 

Of course, _that_ response made Dean glance up, surprised. "You okay, Cas?"

With a slight tilt of his head, Castiel answered, "I'm fine." His sharp blue eyes narrowed curiously as Dean's green eyes widened with both amusement and confusion. "I was thinking," he amended.

Dean bit back his smirk to something more manageable. "So, you wanna share with the class, or what?"

"You're a caretaker, Dean," he answered immediately, almost like he'd been ready to share the thought all along, whether the hunter asked him to or not. "Sometimes you try to deflect it say that you aren't, but you are."

"The hell are you talking about?" Dean said with a slight defensive edge to his voice that tinged the words with misplaced sarcastic undertones. He was pretty sure that Castiel was about to say something nice to him; compliment him in some way that was both true and uncomfortable, and Dean would try to ignore the swell of gratitude he felt from it. Still, though. Some things were nice to hear, regardless of their merit, so he let his question hang instead of brushing the angel off.

A tiny smile, like he was pleased with the response, tipped Castiel's lip. "Christmas. Wanting to make it a real holiday for you and Sam at least once. That's wonderful. It's the part of you that I admire the most."

"You're not getting out of the festivities by trying to exclude yourself there," Dean answered, feeling his neck warm with embarrassment. Times like these he was glad that he didn't blush much, but even so, he felt the flush all the way down to his toes.

Castiel's smile grew in turn. "I am honored to be included in a family gathering. I know better than to make assumptions."

The memories that those words conjured up used to fill Dean with shame. In that other time when he thought that being without anyone was better for everyone. But now... even Sam had done his best in recent times to dull the knife's edge of Dean's biggest lie. The glow of the truth filled Dean enough that he shifted in his seat to dissipate some of the comforting pressure. "Come on, Cas. I said it before, right? Family don't end with blood."

"I appreciate it." Each word was heavy with his gratitude.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't... sound so formal about it. I'm not inviting you to the ball. It's just dinner."

"Of course." The timbre of Castiel's voice when he acquiesced in such a way always made Dean wonder if the angel really understood the nuances of sarcasm better than he let on. Regardless, Dean didn't know how to answer that, so he nodded and went back to his computer. Castiel turned to some of the books Sam had left stacked on the table and they descended into silence again. For a long time, neither of them even noticed it, but the tendrils started to creep slowly into Dean's awareness after a while. Thread by thread, his concentration drifted from dressing recipes to the angel across the table. Castiel shifted to find a more comfortable position, and the sound of cloth moving against the chair and his skin reached Dean's ears. He found himself waiting for more quiet noises. Then the flick of Castiel's finger as he turned pages or the way that he sometimes silently mouthed certain passages of text, caught Dean's peripheral vision. Finally, Castiel stood to get himself a drink and glanced at Dean, who pretended to be engrossed in his research enough that Cas wouldn't disturb him to ask if he wanted anything as well. But Dean tracked the angel with his eyes as he shuffled to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and took the whole thing down in two large gulps. He stared as Castiel's adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, head tipping back further and further until the cup was empty. He then refilled the glass and opened the freezer to put ice in it. The fact that Castiel now enjoyed eating and drinking due to his limited grace dulling the tastes, was quite a distraction. Dean licked his lips. Stood up. Was standing next to Castiel before he had thought of a reason to. The angel blinked at him.

"Turkey's defrosted," he muttered. "Gotta, y'know... put it in the oven."

Castiel nodded and shifted out of the way. Dean turned on the oven to preheat while he drained the water in the sink and prepared the large bird. They'd decided best not to stuff it since it was going to cook for longer than normal, so it didn't take long to trim it and tie it off and get it in the roasting pan with a rubbing of olive oil, salt, and pepper. The timer dinged. Dean washed his hands and then slid the turkey into the oven. He turned around and realized with a start that Castiel had been standing close and watching him the whole time with his signature wide open curiosity.

Apropos of nothing it seemed to Dean, but probably the result of a lot of contemplation on Castiel's part, the angel said, "I haven't got a Christmas gift for you yet," and left.

Castiel didn't reappear for the rest of the evening. Sam said his goodnight shortly before midnight and Dean decided it best to turn in early after turning the oven down to cook the turkey overnight. Even though he was excited for a real Christmas for once, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

***

When Dean dragged himself to the kitchen the next morning to start the coffee, the turkey looked good and right on schedule. As far as he knew, Castiel hadn't returned and Sam was out shopping, so he pulled out the ingredients that could be cooked ahead and reheated so there wasn't a rush to finish everything in the afternoon. He'd just put the potatoes on to boil when a whoosh of fresh air alerted him to Castiel's presence right at noon. Dean turned and gaped a little. Castiel was filthy. His trench coat was wet, though it hadn't rained in their area, his face was streaked with dirt, and his messy dark hair was even more disheveled than normal. But he was smiling broadly.

"What the hell happened? Did you go on a hunt without us?" Dean asked.

Castiel blinked. Looked down at himself. "Oh." In a blink he was clean again and certainly didn't appear any the worse for wear. "No. I went to get your gift. It proved harder to locate than anticipated."

The hunter shuffled forward a few steps towards the angel. He smelled windswept and earthy. Familiar and comforting, with just a sliver of arousal with the comfort. "You were out this whole time getting a gift for me? Jesus. I mean, I only got you a _book._ You didn't have to go to all the trouble."

Castiel's nose crinkled. "I couldn't think of anything else, so... humans have a saying, 'it's the thought that counts,' correct?"

"Yeah," Dean said softly.

"Good. Will we exchange them later?"

"Yeah, after dinner." He nodded over his shoulder. "Come on and help me out."

Castiel removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. "I don't have much experience with... this sort of thing."

Shrugging, Dean said, "that's why there are recipes. Give the dressing a try. It's hard to screw up."

***

Famous last words, as it turned out. Sam came home right as Castiel pulled a ruined pan out of the bottom oven with a sad look as he peered into the smoking, solidified glop of dressing. "You said I wouldn't ruin it," he intoned miserably.

"Ah, no worries, I guess," Dean said lightly. "We can deal without it. There's still plenty of food."

Sam stifled his laugh as he took his bags to his room and then returned just in time for Dean to yell, "what the _fuck_? This mixer is the goddamned devil!" He rounded the corner to find the counters, wall, ceiling, and Dean covered in mashed potatoes.

"So..." Sam ventured, "you decided the walls needed new paint?"

"No, the damn mixer tried to kill me!" Dean grouched, swiping at his forehead to dislodge the potatoes.

"We can salvage this," Sam said confidently. "It's still doable."

But it wasn't. Dean, having never actually _made_ a casserole before, burned the broccoli one he attempted. The canned cranberries survived the mayhem, as did the pie and rum cake, but the later it got without any food and blood sugar levels dropping, _and_ the turkey dry as a bone and impossible to carve, Dean threw in the towel - literally and figuratively - calling off Christmas. He collapsed onto the couch where he stripped off his stained over shirt and finished wiping his face and neck clean of mashed potatoes and sweat. "I fucking tried," he said, frustrated.

Castiel placed a warm hand on the back of the hunter's neck. He squeezed briefly. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"It's not over yet," Sam countered. "I've got an idea. Give me an hour, okay?"

Dean rolled his head back against the couch wearily. "You don't have to, Sam."

"Yes, I do. Look, you put in the best effort you could, and now it's my turn. Just because we have limited cooking skills, doesn't mean we have to cancel Christmas." He grabbed his coat from the arm of the couch. "One hour. I'll be back." Without allowing any further protest, he grabbed the Impala keys and jogged up the stairs. "One hour!" he called over the railing again. "Get the table set!" Then he was gone.

Dean slapped his palms on his jeans with a heavy sigh as he stood up to go back to the kitchen. "Guess I better clean up the disaster."

Castiel padded behind him, shoulders slumped. "Can I offer to help, or would I only cause more trouble?"

With a wry smile, Dean shrugged and said, "nah. It's not like you've broken any dishes thus far. I don't think you can make any of this worse."

They cleaned up the wrecked kitchen fully, and when they were done, Castiel approached Dean and held his right hand out, clenching his fist. "It seems like an appropriate time now even though you said to wait until after dinner. Merry Christmas. I didn't have time to wrap it."

Automatically, Dean put his own hand out in response, palm up. Castiel opened his fingers and a small object fell into the hunter's hand. The significance didn't register immediately. Dean turned the band over in his hand. The familiar smooth surface struck him deep in his chest. "Cas," he whispered, swallowing thickly. "How?"

Castiel shrugged, though Dean only saw it out of the corner of his eye since couldn't tear his eyes away from the ring. "You lost it, so I went looking for it. I retraced our steps from our last several hunts. A location spell helped, as well."

"I lost this more than a year ago."

"I couldn't think of anything else you'd want," Castiel said, sounding doubtful.

Dean closed his mother's ring in his hand for a second and then eased his grip. He cleared his throat. "I don't... know what to say."

Hesitantly, Castiel reached forward and took the ring from him and slipped it over the finger on his right hand where it had stayed for years. "Do you like it?"

A tremulous laugh shuddered out of Dean's lungs. "I only got you a _book_ , Cas."

Castiel's smile shone brightly with a flash of his straight, white teeth. "It's the thought that counts. And I happen to enjoy books."

The next second, Dean stopped over processing. Stopped worrying. Stopped doubting. The thought that flashed through his head in that moment was the one that really counted. He surged forward and kissed Castiel on the mouth. He couldn't imagine why he'd waited so long to do it. Castiel tasted a lot like he smelled; ozone and earth. It was so enchanting that Dean couldn't even spare a thought to worry that Castiel wasn't kissing him back right then. It was just a press of the lips, anyway. A taste. That's all he wanted. He pulled back and stared at the angel who appeared to be more of a statue at the moment. Blue eyes wide and dilated. Lips fallen open in a silent, "oh." Arms limp at his sides.

"Cas," Dean said. 

"Oh," Castiel answered.

The lack of response made Dean grin. "You still with me?"

Castiel's fingers drifted up to brush lightly over his lips. "That was a..."

"Kiss."

Blue eyes focused intently on the hunter. With a serious expression he said, "it was wonderful."

Dean threw his head back and laughed. Of course Castiel would say it like that. "You can try it again if you want."

Castiel's eyes flashed, then he pressed forward to back Dean up against the lip of the sink. He paused before moving closer, searching Dean's face with an unreadable expression. "I would very much like to do it again."

Dean's green eyes sparkled with mirth and his voice had no bite when he said, "don't sound so excited about it." But all teasing and joking was put well out in left field when Castiel kissed him. He did it like he was studying a particularly important text. Brow creased with a thoughtful expression, he slipped his hands up Dean's arms slowly and left goosebumps in the wake of his touch. He shifted slightly forward so that their knees and chests came together, Dean having to cross his eyes a little to be able to focus on the world of blue in front of him. And when Castiel tilted his head to the side so that their noses didn't bump together, Dean held his breath against the achingly slow motion of Castiel closing the rest of the distance between them. 

Now that the kiss was shared, it could be enjoyed fully. Dean noticed the way that Castiel sucked in a breath through his nose the second that their lips touched. It filled his chest, pulling his back up straighter as he pressed forward for firmer contact. Frankly, Castiel sucked at kissing, but was exemplary at following Dean's lead. What started as a sloppy, confused, half-open mouth against the hunter's, quickly became a deep, searching, _learning_ kiss. He moved his lips just right eventually. Swept his tongue into Dean's mouth, too much at first, but after a time _so perfectly right_ when Dean's tongue met his and demonstrated the exact level of finesse required to make it sensual rather than embarrassingly unpracticed. Then hands started to move, grasping onto shirts and tangling into hair. Dean felt fit to bursting and half-hard with the wonder of it all. Castiel felt desperate against him with his soft breathy moans caught in the back of his throat and trembling body wherever they touched. 

Time effectively got away from them, and they realized that they'd probably been making out like teenagers for the better part of fifteen minutes when Sam broke the trance with an exasperated, " _really_ , guys? We eat in here."

Angel and hunter broke apart, though neither one had the decency to look ashamed. "Where'd you go?" Dean asked, voice rough with ill-contained arousal.

Sam rolled his eyes and held up a handful of plastic bags. "Boston Market. I'd say I'm saving Christmas dinner, but clearly you both found a better way. Let's eat."

He turned around to go to the table. Castiel smiled serenely. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Merry Christmas, Cas," he said gruffly.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," Castiel answered, tugging the hunter's hand lightly to bring him to the dinner table as Sam echoed the Merry Christmas to them all.


End file.
